


Mister E's Mysteries

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baking a pie means 'I Love You' in Hobbit...but also in Sindarin, Cats, Cuddling & Snuggling, Elrond shamelessly markets Imladris like it's 1870, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Kissing, Libraries, M/M, Mystery Stories, Never let a wizard meddle in your affairs if you can help it, Reading, Shared Interests, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Winters in Imladris are usually rather uneventful, but a missing object puts amateur detectives Erestor and Glorfindel on the case.  While they try to solve the mystery and find the missing item, they end up finding love, too.Want to connect with me beyond AO3? Keep up to date on my fics, life, the universe, and everything. Fall down the purple rabbit hole at https://discord.gg/CHqptmUnTp
Relationships: Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aglarien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglarien/gifts).



> Written as a pinch hit for the 2021 My Slash Valentine. Agie, I hope I managed to get everything you wanted to read this year. I got a little ambitious on the posters, so there's only one in here, but I have intentions to illustrate the other posters as well. Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Thank you to AnnEllspethRaven & Smaug for beta reading this for me, and for the ideas and late night silliness required to turn this out in ten days.

[ ](https://www.deviantart.com/z-h-i-e/art/Come-To-Imladris-870293621)

_**Come To Imladris!** _

_**Seek out the Knowledge Seekers! Tales Told by Firelight Nightly in the Renowned Hall of Fire!** _

_**Stargaze on Clear June Nights! Best Observatory in all of Middle-earth!** _

_**Most Complete Collection of Beleriandric Writings!  
  
** _ _**Bathe in the Healthful and Healing Pools of over Three Hundred Waterfalls!** _

_**An Oasis of Relaxation!** _

_**Family Discounts Available.** _

* * *

The last line of the poster always made Glorfindel cringe. Forty-some years prior, he had been sent back to Middle-earth. He was told it was to be a mission of most epic proportions. He was told that his skills and abilities would be prized and necessary. He was told that there was a great evil, and he would play a part in vanquishing it. And the worst part of it all was that he actually believed Manwë as he sat upon his throne, saying such solemn things to him.

Imladris. Glorfindel shook his head. He questioned Olorin more than once after he arrived. Were the Valar certain this was his destination? Not Lothlórien, the heart of Elvendom, with its beautiful trees and dignified, poetic demeanor? Not Eryn Lasgalen, the fiercely protected, solid kingdom that reminded him of the resilience and fortitude of realms that came before. Not Lindon, standing proudly on the shores when Glorfindel arrived and was greeted like the Lord he had once been. 

No. He was in Imladris. Imladris. The Last Homely House.

That was how it was advertised on the posters found in Bree and in the letters sent to wealthy inhabitants all over Middle-earth who were looking for a vacation destination run by one of the last living descendants of the House of Finwë still in Middle-earth. When he was welcomed into the household and introduced as the newest member of the staff, he had to fight not to twitch or frown...or run away. He asked Olórin, before he left, if the evil he was to fight was Capitalism. Olorin only smiled behind that fluffy white beard, lit his pipe, patted his shoulder, and told him he was going to take in one of the evening shows before turning in, and would Glorfindel mind letting the kitchens know that Olorin would like breakfast the next morning at sunrise? 

Imladris. An orange tabby crossed his path and looked up at him. The cat sat down, scratched at his nose with his back leg, blinked and then went on his way. Glorfindel cleared his throat and shook his head. At least he had times, such as now, when he could walk the halls and pretend that the tapestries were authentic and not simply to appease the perceptions of the guests. He could sit before the roaring fire and imagine that he was back in Gondolin, waiting out the winter on his Estate. 

Of course, it also meant he was responsible for half of the cooking, cleaning, firewood retrieving, stable tending, path clearing, water carrying, and laundry. It meant there were no servants, no butler, no minstrels, no other residents (save but one), and no guests. In the wintertime, it was just the two of them. Glorfindel was told that before he arrived, it was common for a small group to stay behind when the others left for higher ground. There were some lodges not far from Imladris, but many others chose to visit other Elven lands. The Ruins of Eregion were a popular choice. When it was explained to Glorfindel that only a few were left behind to care for the house, the animals that could not easily travel, and to protect the land (which was not particularly difficult considering all passes were snowed in and rangers aplenty patrolled any road where an enemy might attempt a siege), he was only too glad to offer his service. 

He thought he would be alone. He thought wrong.

Down the stairs he went, only to have a proud grey mouser march up past him, with her latest ‘kill’, a peeled, boiled egg in her mouth. No doubt she was on her way to feed her family. 

The cats were zero percent Glorfindel’s responsibility. That was all Erestor.

Erestor. Erestor was the least Imladris thing about Imladris, and that was the only reason Glorfindel had not objected when the slender scholar spoke up at the fateful council meeting forty-some years ago when the arrangements were made. There were several reasons Erestor gave for staying with Glorfindel in the winter, but the only one Glorfindel recalled was the last one.

“...and naturally, someone needs to take care of the cats.”

Lindir and Galdor both chuckled at that comment. Glorfindel tried not to glare, and then turned to Erestor and said, “I think I know how to deal with the cats.”

Without an ounce of malice, Erestor replied with, “The very way you just put that means you do not know how to take care of them. One does not simply ‘deal’ with cats. One must take the responsibility of being the chosen attendant of these familiars seriously.”

“Glorfindel, I believe there will be more than enough tasks for two people, and I feel better for the overall welfare of the feline residents if Erestor also stays,” said Elrond. 

It was not so much a command, but to Glorfindel, he treated it as if it was. Democracy was not something he was used to yet. Glorfindel bowed his head. “As you wish, your highness.”

“Just Elrond,” he was gently reminded.

It took another twelve years to make it to ‘just Elrond’. It went from ‘your highness’ to ‘your grace’ to ‘sir’ to ‘Master Elrond’, and finally, finally, just Elrond. It was when Melpomaen, at the time a youth with a knack for on-the-spot poetry, happened to be running through the garden with a kite. It caught up in the cherry tree, and he tugged at it while Elrond and Glorfindel approached.

“It looks as if this tree is hungry for your kite,” joked Elrond. He reached up and managed to tip the toy out of the branches.

It fluttered down to Melpomaen’s feet. The lad grabbed it and held it up just before he took off in a run again, calling behind him, “Thanks, Elrond!”

If a twenty-something elfling was allowed to call Elrond ‘just’ Elrond, by Eru, Glorfindel was going to force himself to do it as well.

Most of the house was not in use. It allowed for the expending of less resources. One of the perks of taking such a position meant a suite of rooms on the first floor, near the kitchens. However, it also meant rooms that were quite far from the Observatory Elrond had that drew what Glorfindel could only refer to as ‘fans’ from all corners of Middle-earth to gaze upon the stars with the master of the house. It was one of Glorfindel’s favorite rooms, and a place where he spent a great deal of time in the evening during the winter, when no one else was crowded there, and when the stars seemed to shine brighter in the frosty night.

Erestor had a different opinion of winter comfort. His haunt was the library, with its massive collection of writings from Beleriand and beyond. It was a place many of the cats liked to go to as well; on any given afternoon, it was almost assured that Erestor would spend an hour or more curled up in a chair with a cat on his lap and a small pile of books he had carefully selected. Glorfindel occasionally used the library as well, and it was during one such afternoon the first winter they spent in the house alone that he declared in his mind that Erestor was far from usual. 

Glorfindel had selected a cheerful read, a collection of folk tales from Avarin culture. He sat down in a chair near to where Erestor was, but not right next to him. He wanted to be pleasant, not nosy, and the two read in silence for many hours. But as the light was fading and considerations were made for candles, Glorfindel found he could not stop himself from asking. “Are you working on a research project?”

“No, just reading.” Erestor stretched. 

“Any particular topic?” Glorfindel had taken note of the fact that Erestor would turn to specific chapters, and only seemed to read a single chapter from any given book.

“Oh, just fiction.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel decided any further questions certainly would be rude, and looked back to his own book.

It was Erestor who stood up and brought the book he was currently on with him. “I have read almost every book in here.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. And new books arrive slowly. In the meantime, I read the alternate life of stories.”

“Beg pardon?” Glorfindel lowered his book into his lap.

“I choose a number randomly, and turn to that chapter. Then I just read that chapter. Then, I go to another book and do the same. And then, I challenge myself to figure out how to link the two stories together to make all of what I just read work. What if the two chapters were part of the same story. It is a lot of fun,” said Erestor.

“Did you make that up yourself?” asked Glorfindel.

“I sure did.”

Glorfindel felt he should return to his book, but it was the first conversation that gave him any clue about who Erestor was. And if Erestor had read every book in the library, that meant he also read the forty-seven biographies on Glorfindel’s life in Gondolin, and it seemed to Glorfindel he was just evening it up. “I should wonder if you are an only child.”   
  


“Right again,” Erestor said. 

They might have had a longer conversation, but there was a clatter, and some hissing, and Erestor stood before the next non-question left Glorfindel’s lips. While Erestor separated a pair of dueling cats with cuddles and promises of treats, Glorfindel leaned over to sneak a look at the titles of the books Erestor had on his pile. Thrillers and mysteries, but they had the strangest titles… ‘The Case of the Missing Mushrooms’ and ‘The Buckleberry Ferry Mystery’ and ‘Secrets of Little Delving’ and ‘Mister Boffins and the Disappearing Spoons’. Disappearing spoons, indeed...if this was the worst the inhabitants of Middle-earth had to contend with, it hardly made sense for Glorfindel to have been torn away from his luxurious life in Valinor to be thrown back into the mess of Middle-earth because of some misplaced spoons. He huffed before he noticed, and then felt eyes upon him, and looked up to see he was caught by Erestor.

Erestor was standing over him, holding a very dainty black cat. The cat was batting at one of Erestor’s braids, and Erestor himself was smiling down at Glorfindel. “You should read that one. The ending is a shocker. It has more twists and turns than ‘The Shire Sleuth Saves the Soup’.”

“What are you even reading?” It burst out of Glorfindel before he could stop himself, and he wiped at his face as if the words had literally exploded from him, because of course they had.

But Erestor did not seem at all offended. “Imports. Hobbit fiction. Elven tales are boring...dragons this, balrogs that, marrying half-cousins, and traipsing across the ice because people are too stubborn to say ‘sorry, I messed up’. Everything written about Elves by Elves is just...one long lament over lost shiny rocks.”

Glorfindel blinked up at Erestor. “You must have met Maglor,” he guessed.

Erestor cleared his throat. “I mean…” He looked away, and that caused Glorfindel to lean a little forward and listen a little closer.

He was well-versed in ‘the gossip pose’. Elves liked to pretend they had no interest in the affairs of others, when in reality, they wanted to know every last detail with details. Being immortal did not remove the curiosity that seemed ingrained for all speaking beings, nor did it stop Elves from sharing what they knew with each other. Gondolin had been rife with gossip, and Turgon himself was actually one of the worst.

It was really quite shocking that the city managed to stay hidden as long as it had.

“Yes?” Glorfindel did his best to sound concerned in a friendly way, instead of thirsty for a drop of scandal about Feanor’s allegedly still-wandering son. “You seem to have a great many opinions--and do not worry, between you and me, I happen to think balrogs are rather boring, too.”

This made Erestor smile, and he sat down again when the cat leaped away. “Can you keep a secret?”

Could he? Of course.  _ He _ had not been the one to spoil Gondolin. But there was more to this. Trust, early on, not even acquainted a year. Of course, if things went on well for the winter, perhaps they might be more than acquaintances. Perhaps they could be friends. 

How naive Glorfindel was in those early years…

“Absolutely,” answered Glorfindel.

Erestor leaned closer, and then stuck up his hand. The smallest finger was extended. “Pinky swear?”

“I...uh...what?”

“Ohh...right, that was in ‘The Hidden Mittens” and “The Mathom Heist”. You should read those, too. We could have a book club!” realized Erestor. “Oh, but you have to start with “The Adventures of Sir Locke Homebody”, that is the first book in the series.” 

And Erestor wandered off. 

The black cat jumped onto Glorfindel’s lap. Glorfindel was setting the cat on the floor when Erestor returned with the volume. “You do not care for cats, do you?”

For the first time, it seemed, Glorfindel  _ was _ being judged.

“Just more of a dog person,” Glorfindel said as the small black cat leaped onto him again and rubbed his head against Glorfindel’s chest. 

“Here. You can skip the introduction; it literally spoils the plot to read ahead of time. Go back and read it after you finish the story.” 

Glorfindel accepted the book and set it on the knee the cat was not occupying. “Thank you. Now, what is this ‘pinky swear’ thing?”

“Pinky swear.” Erestor held up his finger again. “You link pinkies--go on, hold up your hand.” Erestor waited for Glorfindel to lift his arm. His hand was twice the size of Erestor’s. “Now, you link pinkies, and then there is a poem to say as you shake hands--no, no, just with pinkies,” said Erestor as Glorfindel was about to reposition his hand. “Yes, like that. Now, we shake, and say ‘Pinky, winky, bow and bell; I swear that I shall never tell.’ See, but you are making the promise, so you say the words.”

“Pinky winky...is this normal custom now?” Glorfindel was having serious concerns about those still living in Middle-earth. 

“Just for Hobbits. I think. Go on--or do you need it again?” asked Erestor.

It was only how seriously Erestor was taking this that kept Glorfindel from snickering or rolling his eyes. “No, no, let me see now… pinky winky bow bell, I promise not to tell...uh, your secret,” Glorfindel added hastily.

“Close enough,” decided Erestor as he let go. He lowered his voice. “Now, you must not tell anyone.”

“I just promised I would not,” Glorfindel reminded him.

“You pinky promised,” added Erestor. 

Glorfindel nodded. 

“Alright.” Erestor perched on the edge of his chair. The cat jumped down from Glorfindel’s lap and up onto Erestor’s chair to join him. “You asked earlier if I knew someone.”

“Yes,” said Glorfindel. “Maglor. He sounds like the lamenting sort, from what I heard.”

“Uh-huh. Except, I do not call him that.”

“Oh?” What do you call him?” asked Glorfindel. He expected something that was either not to be shared in polite company, or something ridiculously scandalous. 

Glorfindel was not disappointed. 

“Grandpa.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened. “No…”

Erestor nodded. “In a very ironic twist of fate, my parents drowned, and my grandfather brought me here to be raised by the very man who he raised when his parents...well...turned into a bird and a star.”

“Not to argue, but Earendil is not really a star,” said Glorfindel.

“Close enough, though. Anyhow. That is how I came to be here,” said Erestor.

“It explains the pinky swearing, too,” said Glorfindel, finding himself somehow more comfortable in knowing that the eclectic bookworm before him was the great-grandson of Feanor, and practically no one knew it.

But this detail escaped Erestor, and he titled his head. “What do you mean?”

“Feanorians. Oaths.” Glorfindel lifted his hand and wiggled his little finger.

“Oh!” Erestor’s hands covered his mouth and he froze. “Oh, no,” he added in a tiny voice.

A tiny, endearing, adorably worried voice. A squeak. A cute little squeak. 

‘No, Glorfindel,’ the blond scolded himself. ‘You have to work with him, and spend every winter with him, and he is probably barely a hundred years old. And, he is Feanor’s great-grandson.’

The last part sobered Glorfindel. 

“I can fix this,” Erestor decided. He held out his finger again. “But you have to pinky swear not to tell anyone that I was pinky swearing which is basically the same as an oath, because if anyone knew, I would have to change my name and go into hiding and...I already did that once. I am...literally doing that in my life right now.”

“You want me to pinky swear again not to tell anyone about our pinky swears, because you just decided pinky swears are oaths, and oaths are bad? I just want to make sure I have that straight.”

Erestor wiggled his little finger and pouted. “Please?”

Glorfindel truly was a dog person, for the puppy eyes made at him caused him to stick out his hand again. “Pinky winky bow and bell…”


	2. Chapter 2

That was years ago. Glorfindel had kept that secret, and many more. He had shared secrets with Erestor, and they had seen the house through many a winter together, from the crisp end of each autumn to the thawing of the valley just before spring. There was one secret Glorfindel wished he could share with Erestor, but he had promised himself long ago not to ruin their close friendship, so nothing was said, and he kept himself in check from saying three little words he very much wanted to declare to Erestor.

And that was why, despite the fact he was working well below his abilities, and put up with riding around on white horses, always white horses, with bells aplenty to greet those who were traveling to the most fantastic attraction in all of Middle-earth, and yearned for a return to the etiquette of the old days, he still stayed in the most modern of all the places where he could choose to be. (Olorin liked to remind him he did not actually have a choice in the matter.) But it did not matter. So long as Erestor remained, Glorfindel was satisfied. He became accustomed to the cats, he put up with long rants about whether or not a rock counted as a mathom and should Erestor continue to pay his dues to the Mathom Society even though he never attended meetings, and even smiled through all of the autographs requested of him when tour groups caught him walking down a hallway, typically to go somewhere quiet, and ended up in the Hall of Fire telling stories to people who would go back to the lands where they lived and tell all their friends that they had met and spoken with and shared a bottle of wine with the Great Glorfindel.

Tonight, it was Erestor’s turn to cook. Glorfindel could smell the aroma of vegetable soup and fresh bread and coffee. Coffee was a ‘Shire thing’. Apparently, what had happened is Erestor had gone out traveling with Gildor’s company during a period of time when he was trying to ‘find himself’, per Erestor’s words. 

“And, did you?” asked Glorfindel that night when they were up at Elrond’s Observatory, for it was near the end of the cold, and only days before others would begin to return, just last year.

“Travel with them? Well yes, I just told you, I spent roughly six years out there. Sleeping in tents, singing songs to Elbereth--got to see one of those palantírs my great-grandfather made.”

Glorfindel smiled. “No, I mean, did you find yourself?”

“Oh, that. Still looking,” admitted Erestor. “But I did find the Shire, or rather, Gildor took us on the outskirts and I snuck in.”

“Oh, you did?” Glorfindel looked very pleased to know this latest secret. “What is there that you felt you had to sneak in?”

“Hobbits is there. Are there,” he corrected himself.

“Yes, you have told me about them--but they do not welcome outsiders?”

“Not exactly,” Erestor said. “That is, had they known Elves to be so close, they would have been mixed about enjoying it and throwing a party and blaming some unknown power. I hear they blame wizards now for a lot of things.”

“Sounds like Olorin meddling,” said Glorfindel. “What did you do when you snuck in?”

“I peeked here and there, and I kept in the shadows and observed and listened. Someone was having a birthday party and they were handing gifts out to the guests and I thought, well now, that seems lovely. And I went around to see their fields and farms, and I learned a little about pipeweed leaf from a congregation of gentlefolk who were sitting on a porch, smoking and drinking and talking. It reminded me a lot of this place, only more rustic,” explained Erestor. “And my sneaking in was how I learned about coffee, and how we set up trade with some folks on the edges of the Shire.”

“Folks?”

“People...just...people, like the folk of...some such person, but, folks.”

Glorfindel sipped his tea. “I have just not heard it said exactly like that.”

“There are a fair number of others you probably never heard at all, I reckon.”

“Reckon? Like...a reckoning?”

“Not exactly. More like ‘I would assume’ or ‘I would say’,” Erestor explained.

“Useless words,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor frowned and drank his coffee. “Not really--they change the meaning. Just telling you that I think there are words you do not know the meaning of sounds rude. Saying it more casually leaves it open for discussion and seems more inquisitive.”

“I prefer the direct approach.”

“Yes, I know,” said Erestor.

Glorfindel was mid-sip, and brought the mug back down from his lips. “I see. Is that why most people avoid me?”

“No. People avoid you because you are the star of Imladris, and you have random ladies show up to your room at midnight to try to go on walks in the gardens with you, and have ignorant fools challenge you to arm wrestling, and children asking for stories about dragons because their idiot parents do not want to teach them ‘balrog’, so they tell them you fought a shadow dragon that breathed fire, and I caught at least two primers with that mistake now the erroneous tale is so prominent.” Erestor cleared his throat. “The residents give you space so that you have time for yourself. It must be hard to be an introvert in this environment.”

“You continue to be correct about words I do not know.”

“Introvert?”

“Yes...I am already uncomfortable without knowing the meaning,” said Glorfindel, his tea abandoned.

Erestor reached out and placed his hand over Glorfindel’s larger one. “I apologize. I hurt your feelings. I am sorry.”

“You can make it up to me by telling me what an introvert is.”

Erestor removed his hand, much to Glorfindel’s disappointment. “Someone who generally does not thrive in a boisterous, busy environment filled with a lot of people and interactions. You had a different life in Gondolin,” recognized Erestor.

“I did,” Glorfindel said carefully. “And I get along just fine with other people.”

Erestor nodded. “I know you do. But I also know that you get edgy in meetings, especially long ones, and you hate public speaking a lot. You reflect on matters before you speak, and you show a lot of empathy for others. Some might say you are shy, and others might say standoffish, but I just think you like to get to know a few people and have more meaningful relationships with them than be the center of attention with lots of people around and friends whose names you cannot recall. Elrond, on the other hand, is an extrovert. He just loves crowds and councils and meetings and gatherings and family. He has built his entire realm around that idea, and sometimes, I think he forgets that not everyone is the same as he is in that regard.”

“And what does that make you?” queried Glorfindel without denying the assessment.

“According to Elrond, I like to ‘skip willingly back and forth across the line’. I found a notation in a book once that referred to it as being an ambivert, then went right on to say that it was impossible, using heterosexual and homosexual as the examples, when everyone knows that bisexuality is completely valid, and there are tribes of men who take multiple wives, and so really, I imagine there are those who not only have varying preferneces, but act on them as well,” said Erestor. “Sorry, you look shocked--I suppose we never really discussed your beliefs and how they relate to the Laws and Customs of, uh, our people...your people...Elves, who like rules…”

Glorfindel tried to decide just where to begin. “I...think I get the context, but...there are many new words.”

“I suppose it would have been frowned upon in Gondolin for two men to lie together,” said Erestor.

“Forbidden, actually,” replied Glorfindel. 

“Somehow, I am not surprised,” said Erestor. “Your pardon, then, I did not mean to offend.”

“Oh, no, I am not at all offended, I--”

A loud ‘whooosh’ followed by some startling noise below caused them to look down and see that a large amount of snow which had been on the roof was now blocking the main pathway. “Oh, honestly,” said Erestor good-naturedly as he gathered up plates on a tray from the meal they had previously eaten. “Well. Better take care of it before it melts, freezes, or finds another way to be worse.”

“Be right there,” called Glorfindel as Erestor headed to the stairway to take him back down to the ground level. Glorfindel walked to the railing that kept visitors from falling to a very unfortunate demise and peered down at the pile of snow. “Thanks a lot,” he muttered at the heap. It had almost seemed he had a way and the courage to approach the subject, but now, he would suffer yet another spring, summer, and fall alone, awake at night, wondering if the occupant of the room next door was kept up thinking about him.

This year, Glorfindel kept telling himself he was going to do it. He was going to, at the very least, casually allude to his general feelings about homosexuality, without directly outing himself, and see what Erestor said about it. Or, maybe he would just find a book that had the topic in it and then bring it up at their private book club that they held during the winter, and that way he would be able to bring it up without actually bringing it up, because it would just be a theme, and they could discuss it. 

Or, he could keep his mouth shut, and wonder forever, until someone else stole Erestor away from him.

Sweet Eru, he had it bad…

“Do you mind setting the table?” asked Erestor when Glorfindel remained standing in the doorway, lost in his thoughts, and admiring his companion while trying to conceal the fact he was admiring his companion. Friend. Coworker. 

Coworker was good. Coworker was safe. 

Glorfindel nodded and admired the way his coworker looked as he leaned over to remove the bread from the oven.

Hastily, Glorfindel marched to the cupboard and took plates and mugs from the shelf, setting them up on a small table they kept in the kitchen during the winter. Normally, the staff would be bustling around and need all of the space available in order to prepare food round the clock for everyone living and visiting the valley. After setting the table, Glorfindel went to one of the sinks and splashed cold water on his face. As he was wiping the droplets from his chin, Erestor lifted up a peach pie proudly. “How does it look?” Erestor asked.

“Perfect,” answered Glorfindel, pleased that he could appear to look at the pie when he was really adoring the streak of flour on Erestor’s cheek and the way he had used two spoons with thin, round handles to bind his hair up in a sloppy bun that leaned a little to one side.

“I was thinking, since tonight would normally be a stargazing night, except for the wind, that we could--”

The idea was interrupted by three loud knocks upon the main door.

Instinctively, Glorfindel’s hand reached for a sword that was not present. He pretended instead to have an itch on his hip. “Must be the wind,” he reasoned. “No one could be here, except us.”

“It sounded like knocking,” said Erestor as he placed the pie on the center of the table to cool.

“The paths are all snowed in. Even if someone tried, no one can--”

Twice more, someone gave a loud pound on the door.

“I am going to answer it,” decided Erestor as he began to leave the kitchen, untying his apron as he went.

“Wait--hold on, what if--”

Erestor spun around. “What if what?”

“It could be orcs. Or something worse.”

“Then come with me.” Erestor reached out his hand and wiggled his fingers. 

It seemed a bit unnecessary, but then, an excuse to hold Erestor’s hand was not to be missed, so Glorfindel made it seem as if he was only humoring Erestor and walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway with him. Erestor swung their arms to and fro as they went, and let go once they reached the door. “If it is an orc,” said Erestor, “You hold him, and I will punch him.”

“Or, I just stab him,” said Glorfindel as he removed a weapon from the wall.

Erestor glanced at the spear Glorfindel held. He reached out and bent the ‘metal’ part, which turned out to be well-crafted rubber.

“My word, is everything here fake?” Glorfindel exclaimed while poking the ‘blade’ at the wall to see it would damage nothing except his pride and credibility.

“Not you,” teased Erestor as he rubbed a hand on the glass over the door and then stood on his toes to peek out. “Gandalf! What is he doing here?” Erestor began to unlock the door.

“Olorin? It could be a trap,” cautioned Glorfindel. 

Erestor chuckled. “You would make an excellent Hobbit with that attitude.” He opened the door, letting in Gandalf, as well as a trail of snow and a chilly wind that caused shivers from Erestor even after the door was shut again. “Gandalf--so good to see you! What brings you here on such a night?” asked Erestor as he helped the wizard brush off his cloak.

“And how did you get here? Where is your horse? What is your business?”

Both Erestor and Gandalf blinked at Glorfindel, who was holding the useless weapon in a fierce pose. Gandalf shook the snow out of his beard and pushed the spear gently down with a smile. “What a sense of humor you have, Findelaure. Hmm, is that pie I smell?”

“Peach pie,” spoke up Erestor. “We were just about to have supper--would you care to join us?”

“That would be quite nice,” said Gandalf. “Yes, thank you, I shall. As for your questions, Findelaure, I am here on business. You see, I lost something the last time I was here, I believe, and I came here to find it.”

“What did you lose?” asked Erestor. He almost sounded excited.

“I misplaced my smoking pipe, the brown one with the ivory mouthpiece. It is quite my favorite, and I was hoping someone might have found it and set it aside,” said Gandalf.

“That does not sound familiar, but we can certainly check and search around, retrace your steps--shall we talk about it over supper?” asked Erestor.

“You came all the way down here, through the snow and ice, just to look for your pipe?” asked Glorfindel.

Gandalf leaned on his staff and took in the sight of Glorfindel, still holding the mock spear. “I know of someone who crossed snow and ice for no reason at all,” he answered. “Now, just what do you intend to do with that? Run me out into the cold, for coming to see if I could find an object sentimental to me?”

Erestor flashed Glorfindel a pleading look. “We should go to the kitchen to warm up and eat.”

Glorfindel lowered the spear. “Yes, of course. My apologies,” he said. He gave a sigh as Erestor and Gandalf strolled together in the direction of the kitchen. 

So much for courage this year.

  
  


Supper was followed by determining where Gandalf would stay. There were really only two rooms fit to be used with so much shut down. It began with a suggestion that almost sounded like a joke from Erestor. “Gandalf, you can use my rooms, and I can sleep in the library.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Erestor, but I could not put you out like that,” said Gandalf. “Besides, the library is drafty, and even with a fire there, it would be like camping outside.”

“But what a lovely campsite! Shelves of books instead of trees, and the painted ceiling instead of the stars overhead,” replied Erestor. “I think I should enjoy spending the night there.”

“What if we do not find the pipe in a day, Erestor?” asked Glorfindel. “You might be sleeping in the library all winter.”

“Would that really be all that bad?” mused Erestor.

Glorfindel frowned. “It does not seem like a good idea. I would much rather you stay in my room instead, where you will not be too cold, and where you can sleep in a proper bed.”

“That sounds reasonable,” said Gandalf.

“But where would you sleep?” asked Erestor.

Glorfindel was sure his cheeks were burning, but he tried not to dwell on it. “I have a couch. It should be sufficient.” 

“But you are so tall,” remarked Erestor. “And it is your room. I can take the couch.”

“I see no reason why two friends cannot share a bed,” said Gandalf. “How different could it be from camping in a tent?”

“That is true,” mused Erestor. 

“Well, now--”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can most certainly sleep on the couch,” added Erestor.

“No, no...it...no, it would be my honor to have you sleeping with me. As my friend,” Glorfindel added hastily, immediately wanting to smack his hand against his head.

“In that case, I will just retrieve a few things from my room and meet you in yours,” said Erestor before he left the kitchen.

Glorfindel waited until Erestor was gone to look across the table at Gandalf. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“This. You are meddling,” accused Glorfindel.

“I am doing nothing of the sort,” mumbled Gandalf, though a smile played on his lips. “I simply need a place to rest while I stay here and search for my pipe.”

Glorfindel rubbed his face with his hands. 

“I think he likes you.”

Glorfindel glared through the spaces between his fingers. 

“I think I shall take a slice of pie with me as a midnight snack.” Gandalf cut a slice and carried it with him out of the room. “Good night, Findelaure.”

Glorfindel waited a few more minutes before he retired for bed. When he entered his rooms, he was not entirely sure what he would find, but did not expect it to be Erestor sitting at his desk writing in a journal. However, as he stood in the doorway, Glorfindel found that he really enjoyed seeing Erestor in his rooms, and more in a way that made him seem like he belonged there.

“I started a case book,” said Erestor proudly as Glorfindel closed the door.

“A case book?” Glorfindel strolled to the desk and placed his hand on the back of the chair so that he could peer down at what Erestor was working on. “You have very nice penmanship.”

“Thank you.” Erestor moved his hand so that Glorfindel would be able to read the words. “I have compiled all of the clues that Gandalf gave us.”

“You mean, how he told us where he had last been, and when he remembered smoking when last here?” asked Glorfindel. 

“Yes. Just like Sir Locke Homebody,” said Erestor. 

“Oh. I see.”

Erestor frowned. “You do not approve?” he asked.

Glorfindel was walking to the dresser as he shook his head. “Not at all. I just thought, it would be more like Hérculo Poró.” While Glorfindel had read through all of the Shire tales, he found another that he preferred over the quaint stories about missing socks or who ate Mister Proudfoot’s pie. Glorfindel still recalled Erestor’s reaction when he was caught reading one of the Poró mysteries.

“I thought I was the bookworm,” teased Erestor as he joined Glorfindel in the library one afternoon a few decades earlier.

“I have stayed up all night reading, and I have vowed not to go to bed until I get to the end,” declared Glorfindel.

“Oh? It must be good,” recognized Erestor.

Glorfindel nodded. “One of the best I have read so far.”

“The cover does not look familiar,” Erestor said. “Is it new?”

“Newer, I believe,” said Glorfindel. “It is called ‘Murder in Mirkwood’.”

“Oh.” Erestor’s nose twitched. “Her books.”

“You do not seem pleased.”

“Well, to begin with, King Thranduil hates it when people refer to Eryn Lasgalen as ‘Mirkwood’, so I would not suggest discussing it with him the next time he is here,” said Erestor. “My goodness, do you really like those?”

“This is the only one I have read so far. I think I saw another on the shelf by the same author,” Glorfindel said, his eyes still on the pages, determined to stay awake, and hold his bladder, until he finished. 

“She has a good thirty if she has one,” said Erestor. “If you read one, though, you read them all. Every single one is about a murder.”

Glorfindel looked up, eyes gleaming. “Really?” he asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately, yes.” And off Erestor went into the stacks to pull together a dozen in a stack to deliver to Glorfindel, who was back to reading again. “You can have them all, and you will never hear a complaint from me. I like my stories to have a happy ending.”

“If Hérculo solves the case, I think it will be happy,” said Glorfindel. 

“Sure, for him. Not for the person who was murdered,” said Erestor. “I am glad you found something you really enjoy, though. I just do not think I will want to discuss them much, on account of, oh, murder.”

“I find it intriguing. And, I assume this is all fictional,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor shrugged. “Of course. Fictional murders do not make them any less...murdersome. When you come from a family like mine, where ‘kinslayer’ is a badge of honor, you tend not to want to read about people getting killed, even if it is just fictional.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” conceded Glorfindel. “I suppose that means you would not like to read and discuss Death on the Sirannon with me?”

“Absolutely not. I will, however, pencil you in to read The Adventure of the Wooden Box with me later this week.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Glorfindel.

And it had been, and now, as Erestor tapped the edge of the desk, Glorfindel recognized that Erestor would most certainly not want to role play a detective who was always solving murders when the ‘case’ involved a missing smoke-pipe. Erestor said as much. “This seems more like a case for Sir Locke and his faithful servant Jonn, Watt’s son.”

“True, those tales do have two characters,” recalled Glorfindel.

“I am glad you agree!” Erestor reached down to a pile of his things which were on the floor next to a crate of items and picked up a hat which he perched on his head.

Glorfindel blinked and tried to make his eyes less wide. “How long have you had that?” 

“One of my friends at the Mathom Society sent it to me. It is just like the one Sir Locke wears in all of the stories,” explained Erestor.

The hat was sturdy, with flaps on the front and back, and constructed of fabric with a checkered pattern of red and brown on a field of tan. “If you pull a violin out of that box, I am going to have a lot of questions for you.”

“I have one, but not here. I never learned how to play it,” Erestor admitted.

“Technically, that works. Sir Locke seemed subpar for a violinist,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor grinned. “That was why I never took lessons.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Glorfindel woke up first. Normally, they did not worry about keeping a schedule in the winter, except when it came to taking care of the animals, which could still be varied a little. This meant that Glorfindel kept the curtains drawn, and woke up when he felt like it, not when the sun told him to. Of course, as Elves, they did not really  _ need  _ to sleep, but it sure was nice when one could. 

It helped, for they had been up very late going over Erestor’s notes and making plans for where to search for Gandalf’s lost pipe. They had, in fact, fallen asleep facing each other in the bed. Erestor still had his hat half-on, which made Glorfindel smile. He could certainly get used to this--even the hat, to be honest. 

Then there was a knock on the door. Of course, there would be a knock on the door. Glorfindel sighed and carefully crawled out of bed so as not to awaken his guest. He shuffled to the door and managed to get it open before Gandalf could knock a second time. “Good morning.”

“Hmmph.. What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good--”

“No, no. None of that,” Glorfindel warned, for he had been in more than one debate with Gandalf as to whether ‘good’ should go before morning, noon, and night, or whether that was for the one being well-wished to decide, and was it a well-wish if it did not include good, and the entire series of memories was beginning to give Glorfindel a headache. “May I ask how I can be of service?”

“By finding my pipe--I thought we had already been over that.” Gandalf harrumphed and leaned heavily on his staff. “One might think you were showing signs of senility.”

Glorfindel set his jaw. During the journey to Middle-earth, Glorfindel had spent most of his time chatting with the blue wizards. It seemed Gandalf was still a little sore about what he mumbled amounted to being ignored when he repeatedly told Glorfindel that there was no use really in becoming friends with the two of them, and indeed, before they seemed to even have the boat secured, the blue wizards had already wandered away.

However, Glorfindel knew better than to sass a wizard too much, and sometimes, it was best to leave it be. “How can I be of service to you right now, since you came to knock upon my door?” asked Glorfindel as sweetly as possible.

“We are out of pie.”

“I see. There was half a pie in the kitchen last night,” recalled Glorfindel.

“I had it for breakfast, so we are out.”

“I will let Erestor know as soon as he gets up,” Glorfindel said, continuing to force the sunny disposition. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes. One of the cats left me a dead mouse in my boot,” said Gandalf.

“I see.” Glorfindel’s mouth twitched. He knew he should not, but he could not help it. “Perhaps he mistook you for Radagast.”

Gandalf scowled. “You take that back.”

“My apologies. I suggest you take up the matter with the cat.”

“If I knew which cat, I would.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Then it would seem you have a mystery to solve while we search for your pipe.”

“Ah, yes. I remembered something about that,” said Gandalf.

“What did you remember?” The voice belonged to Erestor, who now shoved back the covers and approached while stretching. He repositioned the hat to keep it from falling off his head.

“I recall that the last place I remember smoking it was when I was up in Elrond’s Observatory.”

“We should check there first,” decided Erestor. “Hopefully, we can find it before lunch, and I can make us a celebratory pie.”

“It is half past two,” Gandalf informed them.

“Oh, well…” Erestor blushed. “Before supper, then.”

They made haste after Gandalf left, getting dressed and stopping in the kitchen to retrieve some jam and bread before beginning their search. They checked the Observatory first, then moved methodically through the house, checking every place Gandalf told them he had been. The pipe was nowhere to be found.

At sunset they paused to start supper. Glorfindel made a fish chowder while Erestor made another pie. This one was blueberry, and he cheekily decorated the top with eight-pointed stars. While the items were cooking, Erestor went over the notes in his book again. “I think we went about it all wrong,” he suddenly said as Glorfindel was cleaning up the kitchen.

“How is that?” asked Glorfindel.

“Well, we went looking for the pipe like a couple of bloodhounds, but if we are supposed to be detectives, detectives do not search for the missing item.”

Glorfindel tilted his head. “They do not?”

“No--they look for clues that lead them to the missing object,” said Erestor. “We should have looked for clues, not for the pipe.”

“Do you want to go up to the Observatory again while we wait for supper to finish cooking?” asked Glorfindel.

Erestor studied the notes again as he petted a fluffy white cat with marbled black and pink toes that had taken up residence in his lap. “Yes...if you do not mind?”

“Not at all.” Glorfindel scooped up the cat so that Erestor could gather up his notes and put them away into a leather case he was keeping them in. The cat received a belly rub from the blond while he waited for Erestor to finish getting ready, and then he deposited the cat onto the chair that Erestor had been sitting on. “Here. Cannot forget this,” said Glorfindel as he picked up the hat from the table and set it upon Erestor’s head.

The moment reminded Glorfindel of an incident a few years prior. He had been pretty glum one night, having come in from a day of taking care of the animals in the stable. It started with a chicken pooping on his new boots as she ran over his feet. This was followed by an old mule getting hold of the edge of his cloak and chewing a hole in it, then belching in his face when he tried to scold the animal. The worst was the alpaca. Not only did the creature nip at him every time he tried to clean the stall, chasing him from one side to the other, but as soon as the stall was at least livable to Glorfindel’s standards, the ungrateful beast spit in his hair. 

He had not expected to get so dirty, so there was no hot water, nor even some that was slightly warm. His teeth chattered as he cursed the animals while he scrubbed himself using the icy water. Only after he was clean did he realize that he had not brought a towel with him, so he had the additional embarrassment of trying to sneak out of the washroom to get to his suite, holding his soiled clothing strategically, only to have Erestor exit his room just as Glorfindel thought he would be able to open his door and sneak inside before Erestor saw just how discombobulated he was that day.

He hid in his room after that, determined not to leave until he heard Erestor go to bed. Several hours later, still sitting before the fire, and finding himself more than a little hungry, Glorfindel heard a tentative knock on the door. Only then did he remember it was also his night to cook, and he groaned at just how well the whole day had gone. “It is open,” he called out.

The knob turned and Erestor peeked in. “May I enter?” he asked. 

“Of course,” answered Glorfindel.

“I did not want to assume.” Erestor had a tray of food with him that he held with one hand. His other arm was behind his back. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I am so sorry. I forgot about dinner,” Glorfindel apologized.

Erestor smiled. “From the sounds I heard when I passed the washroom, I think you deserve a pass for what you were putting up with.”

Glorfindel rubbed his face and cringed. “I did not want you to hear any of that.”

“Eh. You were frustrated.” Erestor set the tray down carefully. “I, uh, made something to cheer you up. I hope.”

“It is a sweater from an alpaca?”

“Uh...no, because I cannot make anything like that, and also, I think with an alpaca you just take the wool, and I can tell you were thinking more like, bear skin rug.”

“Was I that obvious?” wondered Glorfindel.

“Extremely.” Erestor revealed a crown of paper flowers. He had tipped the edges of the white folded flowers with gold paint. “Probably not exactly what your golden flowers mean, but--here.” And Erestor plopped it on the top of Glorfindel’s head.

Glorfindel reached up to gently touch Erestor’s creation. “This is really lovely and thoughtful,” he said. “Thank you.” He took it off for a moment to examine it before he put it back on. “Thank you. Truly. It is a wonderful gift. The first one anyone has given me since I returned.”

“Really?” Erestor seemed honestly shocked.

Glorfindel nodded, and then added quickly, “I did not tell you that as an attempt to try to get you to bring me gifts. Please, do not take it in that manner.”

“I like making gifts for people I care about--especially people who appreciate them.” Erestor smiled. “I expect this to be the first of many.”

“Only if you let me make things for you, too,” said Glorfindel. “I simply cannot allow you to make things for me if I do not reciprocate.”

“If you insist,” Erestor said as he served food for each of them and settled down in the other chair by the fire. “My favorite colors are black and red, and I like cats.”

Glorfindel chuckled as he was handed a plate of food. “Cats? Never would have guessed.”

Something hit Glorfindel as he pulled himself back into the present and nodded as he was asked if he was ready to search the Observatory again. They were inseparable, year-round. They spent the bits of free time they had either reading together or making small tokens of appreciation for each other. Even outside of winter, they often ate together. 

Had they been courting this whole time, and Glorfindel had not noticed?

No...Erestor would have said something. Erestor was practical and not one to hold back his thoughts. Surely, he would have brought it up. No, they were simply best friends. Anything more would complicate things.

Oh, but what a beautiful complication it would be!   
  


Glorfindel hurried to catch up to Erestor, who had already left the kitchen. They climbed up to the peak of the house together, and once more were in the open air Observatory. The winds had died down from the night before, but the air was chilly again with the sun gone. Even when the sun did shine down this time of the year, it was too cold to spend too much time outside, even for an Elf. 

“Gandalf said he was leaning against the railing so that he could flick his ash off the side,” said Erestor, looking over the notes again. “We should look for clues around the edges.”

Glorfindel nodded, and each of them walked the perimeter, searching for anything out of the ordinary. While Glorfindel came up empty, Erestor excitedly called Glorfindel over to his side of the railing. “Look here” said Erestor. “There is ash on the railing, right here,” he said.

Indeed, there was a small pile of what appeared to be ash on the edge of the railing. “Interesting,” remarked Glorfindel. 

“A clue,” said Erestor proudly as he examined it with his magnifying glass. He looked up to see Glorfindel frowning. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, just that...we had that wind last night,” Glorfindel said. 

“Yes,” recalled Erestor. “The rug in the hallway by the main door is still a bit damp from the snow that blew in.”

“Sure. So, if the wind blew the snow off the railing and the floor here--because I did not shovel or sweep, did you?” asked Glorfindel. Erestor shook his head. “Right. This is all clear. How is there pipe ash?”

Erestor frowned now, too. “Maybe...pipe ash is heavier than snow?”

Glorfindel crouched down so that he was eye level with the railing. Very lightly, he blew a stream of air at the ash. It was carried off in a wisp and tumbled down the side of the hill the Observatory was built into.

“Oh, dear,” said Erestor as he peered over the side. “There goes our clue.”

“That was the clue, though--we just made the clue,” said Glorfindel. “I just proved that there is no way that pipe ash has been sitting there since the last time Gandalf was here.”

“Oh, you are right! So that means that either someone put it here for us to find, or...there is someone secretly in the house, and they found Gandalf’s pipe, and they are hiding from us and smoking it out here.”

Glorfindel blinked. “I really hope that--”

“Yes, that was sarcasm,” answered Erestor as he placed his hands on the railing and leaned over to look at the drop below. “He probably wanted us to think he last smoked it here, and that it toppled over the side, and fell below--but to what end? There is no--”

Erestor’s words were cut off as the wood creaked. Glorfindel saw it before it happened, and he was able to grab Erestor around the waist and pull him back as the wooden railing gave way. Down it fell, splintering as it hit against the hillside on its way down to rest in pieces below.

Meanwhile, Glorfindel, who had successfully kept Erestor from falling over the edge, was on his back with Erestor sprawled atop him. “Are you alright?” asked Glorfindel. The ground was cold, but his bigger worry at the moment was Erestor, whose eyes were squeezed closed. “Are you hurt?”

Erestor opened his eyes slowly. “I think...I think Elrond needs to have this area better maintained. I...I think I am alright.” Erestor did not move. Instead, he blew an errant lock of his hair out of his face. 

“Sorry,” apologized Glorfindel as the hat, which had tried to stay on Erestor’s head, tumbled off onto the ground.

“What are you apologizing for?” asked Erestor. “You saved me. I think I should thank you.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I am what you might call an expert in saving people.” He groaned internally. It had sounded so much better in his head.

But it did not seem to annoy or upset Erestor. In fact, he was relaxing a little, and smiled down at Glorfindel after he shoved his hair out of his own face. “Well, thank you, my brave warrior. I am in your debt.”

Glorfindel’s heart beat faster. Had Erestor just used a possessive word? About him? No, certainly not, he had to have imagined it. “It...it was my honor.” Only now did Glorfindel realize he still had his hands upon Erestor’s waist.

There was a lengthy pause, and then Erestor said, “I want to, uhm...show my appreciation, but I am honestly still not sure if…” He looked away and clearly fought to speak his next words. “I have been trying to figure out another mystery for decades.”

“Oh?”

“The Mystery of You. Everytime I think, maybe I know, something happens or you say something, and I think I have it wrong. And the last thing I want to do is ruin our friendship--and yet, I keep regretting not asking.” Erestor was still looking away.

“You can ask me anything,” said Glorfindel. He was quite enjoying the closeness, and he had no problem prolonging it if possible. He reached over with one hand to grab the hat and set it back on Erestor’s head. Then his hand almost instinctively went back to Erestor’s hip.

“Then I am going to ask. Here I go. Asking the question now.” Still, Erestor kept his eyes averted. “Get ready for it. Here it comes. Right now. Glorfindel...are you, uhm...that is...would you consider yourself to be, uhm...straight?”

“Straight?”

“Oh, you know, as I hear myself saying it, you probably have no idea what that means. And, what am I even saying the opposite of that is? Bent?”

“...bent?” questioned Glorfindel.

“Forget I said that. What I meant was, are you… do you… oh, dammit.” Erestor sighed. “You probably had lots of ladies fawning over you in Gondolin. Maybe even a sweetheart there. For all I know, you had a wife and there was a Lady of the Golden Flower,” Erestor speculated.

Glorfindel’s brow furrowed. 

“Actually, now that I even think about what I am asking, this is not appropriate,” admonished Erestor. “Please forgive me, I--”

“I like men.” Glorfindel looked away now before he could catch Erestor’s eye, feeling he was being watched again. “I...maybe that is not entirely true. I never really had deep feelings for anyone before I came here. I have no idea what I ‘am’, I cannot answer that question for you, but I...I like you, Erestor,” admitted Glorfindel. “I like you an awful lot. I stay up at night thinking about you sometimes. So, if what you are asking is, could I love another man--I already do.” 

He held his breath.

And then, he felt Erestor shift. For a moment, he expected that Erestor was getting up. Then he felt Erestor’s lips upon his, and he relaxed and smiled and kissed Erestor back. “I, uh...I guess you must like me, too,” said Glorfindel bashfully.

“We are both idiots. You know that, right?” Erestor crossed his arms over Glorfindel’s chest and rested his chin on his arms. “I expect we were both too afraid to lose the friendship we have to say anything sooner.”

“At least we solved one mystery,” offered Glorfindel. “We still have a pipe to find.”

“I am not sure I believe that the pipe was ever missing in the first place,” mused Erestor. “Your assessment was correct--the wind should have blown the pipe ash away. So, how could it still be there, unless it was placed there today?”

“And if it was placed there, it was probably Gandalf. Now, he might have another pipe,” reasoned Glorfindel, giving the benefit of the doubt.

“He might--but something seems amiss. Why would he have been so adamant to tell us to come and search here if he had not left that clue? And is it possible he left other clues elsewhere? And what is this all about anyway?” wondered Erestor.

“You know where he told us not to go?” asked Glorfindel. “When you asked if he had been in Elrond’s office, he told us absolutely not. And I was going to dispute that, because I recalled seeing him there some months ago, and he was smoking his pipe there. So my question is, what might be there that he does not want us to see?”

“The game is afoot,” whispered Erestor excitedly.

“We should check on supper and your pie,” said Glorfindel. He did not really want to move--now that he knew that Erestor had been wondering the same thing he had for some time, he would have been content to stay here, despite the cold chill on his back, to have Erestor comfortably relaxing upon him. 

“Yes. A burned pie is a sad pie,” agreed Erestor.

“Do I get another kiss before we go down there?” asked Glorfindel. “Since I, you know, saved you and all.”

“You can have two.” After making good on his offer, Erestor stood up and helped Glorfindel back to his feet. “Now...how do we handle Gandalf?”

“What do you mean?”

“I wonder if we should reveal what happened here to him, or if we keep silent,” said Erestor.

“Good point.” Glorfindel rubbed his chin. “We might need to pretend that none of this happened.”

“Ah. All of it, yes? Only pretend we found nothing. Well, that does make sense.” Erestor nodded. “I can agree with that, considering we are both heading to the same room later tonight.” He gave Glorfindel a wink, and Glorfindel’s cheeks burned red with the thoughts of what that might mean later in the evening.

  
  


The pair managed to get through supper with Gandalf, displaying perfect poker faces, neither of them giving away anything that transpired at the Observatory. He was very keen to know what they found, but they managed to tell him a sad story of finding nothing out of the ordinary in all of their hunting. 

When Gandalf retired (again with an extra slice of pie), Glorfindel and Erestor did as well. Or at least, it appeared they were doing so.

“Something seems off about the way Gandalf avoids discussion about Elrond’s office,” mused Erestor quietly. “Every time we asked about it, he diverted our attention elsewhere.”

“Either he definitely does not want us going there, or he is trying to get us curious and absolutely wants us going there,” said Glorfindel. One of the cats had followed them in, a black and orange fellow who looked like a tiger whose black stripes had bled over into the orange field. Glorfindel scooped him up and rubbed his tummy while he and Erestor talked. “I am of a mind to check the office. I do not know if we should go together, or if one person should remain here as a lookout for Gandalf.”

“I think we should go together,” said Erestor. “Sometimes we both catch things the other misses.”

“I like how you keep using ‘we’ in your sentences,” said Glorfindel. 

Erestor smiled and approached; the cat jumped away. “I like how nice it sounds to say ‘we’ about ‘us’.”

Glorfindel bent down to sneak a welcomed kiss. “I like doing that with you.” His blush was back.

“I like doing just about anything with you,” said Erestor. “But,” he lowered his head just as it seemed Glorfindel was going to kiss him again. “We will never get to Elrond’s office if we keep along this line of discussion, and then we will have a wizard in the house all winter with us, and--”

“We need to find the pipe and get rid of the wizard,” Glorfindel concluded.

“Yes, indeed.” Erestor stretched up and kissed Glorfindel. “And then, we can do that as much and wherever you want.”


	4. Chapter 4

Elrond’s office was a disorganized den of chaos. There were boxes of this and that, all muddled together, and stacks of posters for the next season, ready to be delivered to neighboring towns. In a corner, there was a box of toys. Although his own children were too old for such things, there were times when he needed to meet with various members of the staff, and he made it welcoming for them to bring along their little ones if they so desired. This also explained the scribbles low on the wall near the box, though who had made those none could say.

The desk was the neatest it had been all year. Normally, it was heaped with papers and bills of sale, with trinkets brought to him by admirers and with several cups of tea in varying states of fullness, sometimes the oldest ones with a fly or gnat floating in it. He always took his own dishes down to the kitchens--eventually. The maids were always afraid to displace something, and Celebrían had given them all full permission not to have to enter the master’s office.

There was a knitted blanket thrown over the back of the chair; an indication of the peredhel’s heritage, for the room could become drafty, and there were times when the blanket was over his shoulders when someone came in to speak with him. The only thing that was halfway arranged in a purposeful manner was the bookshelf repurposed to be a small apothecary. The herbs and powders were the only things in the room that Elrond often needed with immediacy, and those were kept in superior condition, with everything labeled neatly by his wife and checked for potency on a regular basis. 

“Where do we even begin?” wondered Glorfindel once they had shut the door behind them.

“Maybe Gandalf did not want us in here for fear of an avalanche,” reasoned Erestor. He stepped carefully around the boxes and chairs, trying to determine a starting point.

Glorfindel, afraid that his large frame might knock something over inadvertently, stayed at the door. “What about...letters. Correspondence. That seems like a reasonable place to find a clue. Olorin and Elrond do write to one another.”

“I am not even sure where that would be.” Erestor managed to make his way around the desk to sit down. “Alright. Now, the big question, does he trust us, or does he lock his desk drawers?” Erestor tried to pull the center compartment forward, but it caught on the pin inside. “Huh.”

“What?” asked Glorfindel.

Erestor tried another drawer, but had the same trouble. “These are locked.” He tried a third with the same result.

“All of them?” asked Glorfindel.

Erestor nodded. “Well. I feel just a little hurt to--” His back hit the chair on account of pulling all of the drawers so hard that the force of one of them giving way knocked him back. “This one is broken,” he said triumphantly as he moved it in and out.

“I doubt we will find anything important in there,” said Glorfindel.

The drawer was pulled out and set upon Erestor’s lap. “No. Just a half sack of hard lemon candies and...I am not really sure what this is.”

“Oh--that is a game,” said Glorfindel. “A smaller version of cricket, for indoors.”

“Interesting.” Erestor slid the drawer back in place. Then he snapped his fingers and pulled it out again.

“Did you want me to show you how to play?” teased Glorfindel as the drawer was balanced on the top of the desk. 

“No--well, later, maybe.” Erestor pushed the chair back and knelt down on the floor. “With that drawer out, I can at least get to the drawer underneath.”

“Oh?” Glorfindel was getting a little nervous that they were truly breaking and entering at this point, but tried not to show it. “Do you see anything?”

“Looks like...files. Oh, personnel files.” Erestor thumbed through the folders, and then he glanced up. “Do you want to know what our boss thinks of us?”

Glorfindel squirmed. “Not really. That seems...that seems private.”

Erestor, his hand on the folder with his own name, bit his lip. “It is tempting, but...you are right.” Erestor tucked the folder back in place. “Maybe we should not have come in here,” he said as he slid the broken drawer back where it belonged. 

Glorfindel, who had been looking around the room, spied something in the unused fireplace. “What is that over there?”

Erestor turned his head and saw the object. “It looks like part of a letter.” He stood up and went to retrieve it. It was only half of a sheet, somehow escaping the fate of the rest of the pages, which were brittle black curls and ash. “It appears to be the second half of something, and it is signed ‘Mithrandir’.”

“Well, we know who that is,” Glorfindel concluded. “What does it say?”

“...and while it is not my business to meddle in the affairs of others, not exactly, I do understand your desire to see them happy after so long. I expect if I arrive after autumn that there will be few other distractions, and I can tidily--Glorfindel, this is about us.”

“It is?” He had been listening and attempting to pick up clues from the letter, but Erestor had it in front of him, and he carried it over for Glorfindel to see. It was partially vague, but in the end they were named, and Glorfindel shook his head. “We were being set up.”

“Indeed. By Elrond with Gandalf’s help.” Erestor laughed. “You would think a wizard would have more important things to do.”

Glorfindel slowly looked up, and then pulled a copy of the latest poster from the stack and held it up.

* * *

**Enchanting Imladris!**

**Exquisite Gardens!**

_**The Finest in Noldorin Cuisine!** _

**Group Rates Available.**

* * *

Erestor chuckled. “Alright, well, that answers that, then. Hmm...so what do we do now? March to his room, tell him we found him out, and ask him to please go away?”

With his arms crossed over his chest, Glorfindel tapped his foot. “He honestly does not seem to deserve such an easy exit. I do not think I want to give him the satisfaction of feeling as if he was the one to solve what Elrond deemed to be a...what does the letter say again?”

“A, uh, romantic deficiency. You know, I feel less bad now about almost looking at my file.” Erestor looked up from the letter. “Obviously, Elrond saw what we were not quite sure of, but I still do not like the way the two of them went about this. I am in agreement--I am sure everyone will find out soon enough, but I do not want either of them to get to take credit for us, when we did most of that ourselves. What do you have in mind?” 

“How good are you at acting?” asked Glorfindel.

  
  


The next evening, Gandalf was sitting in the kitchen while Erestor checked on the progress of his pies. Once again, the pie had been depleted, so today there were two pies, one cherry and one pear. There was also fresh bread, and a dish with mushrooms and noodles. Every question Gandalf asked was answered with a short yes or no, and Erestor seemed incredibly quiet as he worked.

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen burst open. Glorfindel barreled in, waving a hairbrush angrily. “What did I tell you about touching  _ my _ things,  _ Noldo? _ ” The last word might as well have been an expletive the way that Glorfindel delivered it.

“I did no such thing.” Erestor’s words were cold and terse. He did not even look up from his task.

“There are dark hairs in my brush again,” growled Glorfindel. He plucked one from the mostly golden hairs caught on the brush and shoved it in front of Erestor’s face. “How dare you lie to me!”

“Maybe it was the cat.” Erestor’s demeanor remained cool as he arranged slices of apples on a tray. 

Glorfindel snorted. “A cat with hair that is over a meter long? What kind of idiot do you take me for,  _ kinslayer?” _

Erestor spun around with the tray in his hands and slammed it onto the ground. Slices of apples went everywhere. “Well. I  _ thought _ we agreed to be civil in front of Gandalf. However, since you brought it up--I take you for the kind of idiot who has no manners and snores his damned head off every night.”

Glorfindel glanced around as if he was unaware that they had an audience. “He might as well know--he is the cause of all of this after all.” Glorfindel kicked some of the apple slices across the room.

“You will have to excuse myself and the house idiot, Gandalf,” said Erestor as he stepped around the mess on the floor to approach the wizard, who was staring at them, mouth open, more from pausing in his eating of the remainder of a seed cake Erestor had made for him earlier. “We did not want you to know, but, here it is. Neither of us have been able to get along particularly well in the winter, or any other time, and while we managed well enough these past years, living in the same room is practically unbearable.”

“Only because you have such unforgivable habits,” cut in Glorfindel. 

“My habits are perfectly civilized,” retorted Erestor.

“No one needs to file their nails in bed!” shouted Glorfindel.

Gandalf set down his fork and stared at the pair, now sizing each other up--which was more difficult for Erestor, considering how much shorter he was than Glorfindel.

“And you chewing on your toenails after you bathe is any better?” questioned Erestor with a huff. 

“They are clean!”

“Those are your feet! Feet do not go into mouths!” 

“If they fit--”

“Enough!” Gandalf’s booming voice echoed through the kitchen, rattling the pots and pans hanging on the wall. “The two of you are clearly in a dysfunctional situation, and I wish to be no part of it. If only I could...hmm, what is this…” The wizard began to pat at the pockets of his robe and suddenly pulled forth the ‘missing’ pipe. “Hmm, well, seems I must have placed it in my pocket.”

Glorfindel and Erestor, who appeared to have additional grievances to air, turned to look at Gandalf. “How fortunate for you,” answered Glorfindel. 

“Yes, well, I think I shall take my leave, thank you.” Gandalf stood up and slowly backed his way out of the kitchen, keeping an eye on both of them as he went.

As soon as he was gone, Glorfindel began to smile, but Erestor waved a hand at him. Then, as quietly as possible, Erestor said to Glorfindel, “We have to keep going.”

Glorfindel lifted his hands, confusion furrowing his brow.

“He is not gone yet. He just went into my room to get his things.”

Glorfindel silently shook his fists in the air, but followed Erestor’s lead. “I certainly hope you are happy!” shouted Glorfindel at Erestor. He kicked the tray that was on the floor for emphasis.

“Me? What did  _ I _ do?” demanded Erestor.

“That little tantrum you threw--just like a Fëanorian! You act high and mighty, but in reality, you cannot keep your emotions in check.”

“You were the one who came in here shouting at me in the first place!” Erestor poked his finger at Glorfindel’s chest, though the taller elf did not budge. “Just like a big, dumb oaf to think someone else was the problem when he was the cause all along!” Immediately after spewing such hurtful words, Erestor looked up at Glorfindel, mouthed ‘I love you’, and blew him a kiss.

‘I love you, too.’ Glorfindel pressed his fingers to his own lips, and then booped Erestor’s nose. “A dumb oaf, eh? I would rather be a dumb oaf than a heartless old orphan!”

It seemed this went a little too far, because Erestor frowned and his eyelashes fluttered. The sound of the main door opening and then shutting quickly was heard down the hallway. 

Glorfindel’s hand was over his mouth. “I am so sorry--you know I did not mean--I am sorry, Erestor.” He held out his arms, but waited for Erestor to react.

Erestor shrugged slightly. He pouted a little, and then stepped forward and let Glorfindel embrace him. “A little too close to home,” he admitted. 

“I am really, really sorry. We should have gone over things in advance.”

“You are brutal,” said Erestor as he snuggled against Glorfindel. “You do know there is no way I could have been a kinslayer, considering when I was born.”

“Oh, true. Sorry about that, too,” apologized Glorfindel.

“Everything is fine,” said Erestor. He pulled back just a little so that he could stretch up and kiss Glorfindel. “You did not mean malice. We were both acting, and trying our best, and, well, now Gandalf thinks you chew on your toes, so we are even.”

Glorfindel laughed loudly. “I almost lost it when you said that. How did you even come up with that?”

“The thought of me sitting in bed filing my nails on your blanket while you sat beside me, contorted with one leg up, gnawing on hangnails--”

“That is so disgusting!” Glorfindel continued to laugh. “We should probably go and make sure he is really gone before we celebrate--you know how crafty wizards are.”

“Let me set out the pies and supper to cool.” Erestor took all of the items and placed them on shelves out of the reach of the curious cats and then went with Glorfindel to check both suites of rooms. Erestor’s bed was unmade, but other than that, the room was clear. Glorfindel’s room was as they had left it. “I feel just a little bad,” admitted Erestor as they wandered out into the hallway and looked to see that the door to the outside was definitely closed, and a little snow on the mat told them someone had shuffled out. 

“Just a little. Mostly, I feel like kissing you again,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor took hold of Glorfindel’s arm. “Permission granted.”

The pair was locked in an intimate embrace when the door reopened, and Gandalf strolled back in. “Just getting my staff. No need to stop on my account,” he said as he walked past the stunned pair and went to the kitchen.

Glorfindel shook his head. “I thought we did a good job in there,” he whispered to Erestor.

“Well, at least it looks as if he is still leaving,” Erestor said.

A few moments later, Gandalf emerged. He had his staff, as well as a basket with a little steam coming from it. “I am taking the pies with me. Payment for my troubles,” he announced on his way out again.

Glorfindel looked personally affronted; Erestor just covered his face with his hand and laughed. Once the door was shut again, Glorfindel ran to it, locked it, and sunk down on the floor to block it from being opened without physically moving him aside. “So much for our budding acting careers.”

“Good thing we are not in the entertainment industry. Oh--wait--we basically are,” Erestor said, pointing with both hands at a poster from the past season that was still attached to a column that he walked past. “Cheer up. Technically, we solved a case together. Two cases, if you count Elrond being a pesky matchmaker.”

“Three, if you consider the mystery of me you were trying to solve,” Glorfindel reminded him, looking up from the floor.

Erestor smiled and extended his arms down. Glorfindel took hold of his hands and allowed himself to be helped up. “That is my favorite discovery of all. Worth the loss of many pies,” he added before kissing Glorfindel sweetly.

“I have a surprise for you,” said Glorfindel. “Or maybe you might call it a sur-pies,” he said with a grin.

“Oh?”

Glorfindel took Erestor by the hand and led him back to the kitchen. “I got up early, made this, and hid it away, knowing that Gandalf might just do the very thing he did do.” Out of a high cabinet, Glorfindel retrieved a tin covered with a cloth. He removed the cloth to reveal yet another pie. This one did not have a patterned design, as most of Erestor’s did, but instead had a kitty face carved into the top which had allowed the steam out earlier. “I hope this does not seem too strange to eat,” he said as he held it for Erestor to see.

“I love it,” said Erestor as he took the pie. “And is this…?”

“Blackberry. You mentioned last night that it was your favorite flavor. I hope that carries over to pies.”

“It does,” confirmed Erestor. “Thank you. This makes up for your comments earlier.”

“Again, I am truly sorry,” apologized Glorfindel. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

“There is one good thing to come from it,” said Erestor as he set the pie back down on the counter. He reached his arms up to hook them behind Glorfindel’s neck. “We already have our first fight out of the way, no one got hurt, and now we can have make-up cuddles.”

Glorfindel chuckled and wrapped his arms around Erestor. “I would like that very much.”


	5. Epilogue

Glorfindel walked down the hallway of the Last Homely House. It had been one of the busiest seasons since he had arrived. A couple on vacation came around the corner. They smiled politely as they approached, and then each offered their congratulations to Glorfindel before continuing on their way. It was hard for Glorfindel not to smile, and he paused before one of the posters in the hallway.

* * *

_**Exciting! Exotic! Efficacious!** _

**The Valley of the Elves**

**Imladris**

_See! Elves Singing in Trees!_

_See! Grand Banquets in the Great Hall!_

_See! Lush Gardens of Delight!_

**Come for the Calm and Camaraderie:**

**Stay for the Wedding of Glorfindel and Erestor**

_**Full Season Bookings Available** _

* * *

“It could be worse,” spoke a familiar voice behind Glorfindel. “They could have offered a...commemorative vase with our images on it or something like that.”

Glorfindel turned around to see Erestor holding a picnic basket. “I thought you were stuck all day giving Tengwar lessons,” said Glorfindel.

“Uh...I was? And then, two of the ladies in the lesson started to ask questions about the end-of-the-season-event, and after I went through the colors of the flowers and explaining that of course they would be gold, and what we were wearing, and yes, I would obviously have to be in black, and every other detail I knew the answer to, the lesson turned from the proper use of ómatehtar and their importance and why Tengwar is far superior to Sarati, and morphed into all of them insisting that we should take longer than the assigned half-hour lunch break because I should really be spending as much time as I can with my beloved, so I have a little more than an hour to eat lunch with you.” Erestor held up the basket. “I did not make it, but there is pie.”

Linking his arm with Erestor, Glorfindel bent down to give Erestor a kiss. “How can I possibly argue with logic like that?”

Glorfindel was determined to have a lovely afternoon with his betrothed. Besides, at some point, he had to tell him that a shipment of one hundred and forty-four collectible plates with their likenesses on them had arrived earlier that day...


End file.
